


I’ll Hold You Till the Morning Comes

by SuperHeroTiger



Series: Kindred Spirits [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Animal Soulmate AU, Gen, Happy Hogan is a Good Bro, Hurt Tony Stark, IronDad and SpiderSon, Irondad, NOT STARKER - Freeform, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Platonic Soulmates, Protective Peter Parker, Soul Guide AU, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, platonic soulmate au, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:14:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24999667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperHeroTiger/pseuds/SuperHeroTiger
Summary: Peter felt like he drifted in and out of reality for a while; like he was in a dream and a nightmare all at once. He hadn’t even really been able to think about the fact that he was Tony Stark’s soulmate the entire day, too busy trying to ignore it and everything associated with it, including Tiger.The hairs on Peter’s arms stood on end.Danger!His eyes immediately shot up, expecting to see Tiger charging at him with claws at the ready, only to see something far worse. Tiger, bloodied and pinned to the floor on his back by an unseen attacker, was crying out not in rage, but terror.And suddenly Peter realised that the alert from his senses wasn’t meant for him, it had been meant for Mr Stark.“NO!”.(Soul Guide AU. The Siberia fight scene from Peter's perspective.)
Relationships: Happy Hogan & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Kindred Spirits [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1669039
Comments: 38
Kudos: 443
Collections: The Best Irondad/Spiderson Fics, The Best Peter Parker Whump Fics, The Best of the Best MCU Fics





	I’ll Hold You Till the Morning Comes

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> Now this is a bit of a surprise isn't it? I wasn't planning to add anything to this series until I could finish the sequel, but I was struck with a sudden inspiration and outright NEED to write this scene (which as you can tell from the word count spiralled into something far bigger than just a scene hah!), and I haven't been able to stop since! I know it's not the sequel but I promise I'm working really hard on it, and I hope you guys enjoy this alternate perspective as much as I enjoyed writing it! Hope you all have an amazing day! Enjoy!!!
> 
> -Superherotiger

“You right kid?”

Peter’s head snapped up at the sound of the driver’s voice, surprised to see Happy’s usually surly eyes peering at him with a hint of concern through the rear-view mirror. Usually Peter would have jumped at the opportunity to speak to the man who he had been trying -and failing- to spark a conversation with this whole trip, but he just didn’t have any energy to spare. No space in his mind to think of anything worth saying. Happy probably wouldn’t care if he never spoke again anyway, he’d made his disinterest of the teen pretty clear from the get-go.

_Huh… seems to be the theme of the day…_

When a grunt sounded from the front at Peter’s lack of response, the teen glanced back through the window and answered softly “I’m fine. I heal fast.”

“Yeah, I got that. But this is the first time you haven’t been talking my ear off since, well… _ever_ ,” Happy replied dryly.

Peter couldn’t help but smile at that, as if barely a single day in the driver’s presence counted as an eternity. But when he glanced over to the other side of the car and saw that familiar silver pelt coiled up tensely on the other seat, Peter’s smile fell almost immediately.

Tiger had been sitting curled up like that for almost an hour now, his back turned and his usually perceptive eyes covered beneath layers of soft fur, as if he were trying to hide from the world. Peter’s head was aching enough as it was without trying to decipher his soul guide’s defensive mood, but he knew whatever had happened to cause such a reaction must have been bad. They’d been waiting at the abandoned airport after the fight had gone airborne when it happened. One moment Peter was sitting on the tarmac, massaging his templates as an onslaught of emotions and thoughts battled for dominance, and the next his soul guide had suddenly jolted from his frantic pacing into a startling cry. Peter had immediately jumped to the feline’s side at the sound of his distress but hesitated just moments before his fingers made contact with Tiger’s fur, now fully aware of the person this cat -his lifelong friend- was linked to.

Maybe Peter should have held him anyway. Maybe it would have made the strangled scream that tore out of Tiger’s throat as he stared at something in the distance a little less piercing. Maybe it would have stopped the angered hissing and snarling that would follow the devastated cry. And when Peter glanced up in the direction the cat was staring at, he was surprised to see the Quinjet -a mere speck in the sky at this point- disappearing across the horizon.

So they’d lost, Peter realised. Captain Rogers and his team had managed to slip away despite their best efforts to stop them.

Peter wondered for a moment if that’s why Tiger had reacted so vehemently, but a quick glance at the feline’s glassy, pained eyes and he knew that something worse than defeat had transpired. So lowering himself to his knees beside the shaking, distant-eyed cat, Peter gently ran his fingers down Tiger’s back, comforting but cautious. “I’m sorry,” Peter had whispered into the air, feeling a hollowness in his chest he couldn’t even begin to describe. “I’m sorry… I don’t know how to help…”

That was a lie. If you’d asked Peter only a day ago he would have said he knew exactly how to help his distressed soul guide. He’d done so for years, maybe even his entire life, scooping the cat into his arms and refusing to let go whenever Tiger started to spiral. Peter had lost count of the days and nights he had spent wrapped up in layers of blankets on the couch with his arms firmly pinning the cat against his chest, forcing the feline to rest and heal from the injuries he’d always seem to gather.

But that was before. Before today. Before the battle. Before _Mr Stark_ -

Peter was snapped back into the moment at the sound of a car door shutting abruptly, noticing with a jolt that Happy was no loner in the driver’s seat and that they were parked safely out the front of the fancy hotel they had stayed at the night before. It must have been a five-star hotel, Peter was certain. When they had arrived yesterday it took all of his willpower not to start climbing the enate walls to inspect every intricate sculpture carved into the pillars and ceiling. But for Happy’s sake he’d restrained his excitement, waiting until they’d reached their rooms before spilling out all of the awe-struck thoughts running through his mind to the camera in his phone.

Now though, Peter just felt drained.

Not from the fight. No, that had been exhilarating! But from what followed after the battle. From the realisation that his soulmate _didn’t want him_ , and every horrible feeling that accompanied it.

Glancing over at Tiger with a grimace, Peter wondered if he should disturb him or not. He didn’t want to bother Mr Stark more than he already had. He had seen the disappointment in the man’s eyes when Peter had figured it out back at the airport, pushing Peter’s hands away like his touch had been the flames of a fire.

The guilt and embarrassment that brewed in Peter’s chest at the memory made the decision for him, climbing out of the car without the soul guide at his side and following a slightly less grumpy Happy through to the lobby. Tiger would follow eventually. Soul guides always did. And if the driver was concerned about him as they made their way up the elevator then he didn’t bring it up, parting at their adjoining rooms without a single word being passed between them.

For once Peter was glad that Happy wasn’t much of a talker.

The next few hours seemed to go by in a daze as Peter’s thoughts continued to wander elsewhere. It was still relatively early in the day, but Peter felt no motivation to do anything but sit and stare. He turned the enormous flatscreen TV on and played a marathon of SpongeBob episodes in the hopes to stilt the dreadful stream of thoughts, but when his mind seemed to finally engage with the characters on screen Tiger picked that moment to pace into the room looking dishevelled and as determined as ever. Peter immediately noticed the limp in his friend’s -no, his _soul guide’s_ \- step and realised he had his left leg raised to his chest, probably injured during the fight from Mr Stark’s end.

The wave of concern, the instinct to reach out and comfort the cat hit him almost immediately, but Peter pushed it away in favour of turning back to the TV to distract himself. He didn’t know what to think about it all, or how he was supposed to act towards the companion that now seemed like a prisoner tethered to him with an invisible leash.

And judging by the way that Tiger never made a move to approach him either, Peter got the feeling Mr Stark was feeling the exact same way.

So that’s how the next hour went by; Peter watching SpongeBob from the plush king bed and Tiger pacing the length off the wall on the other side of the room. Sometimes the cat would pause in his step, a flash of sadness crossing his features that made Peter’s heart ache, before he went straight back to pacing with his tail flicking back and forth restlessly. Every time Tiger stopped Peter couldn’t help but look over to him, a part of him longing for the cat to just sit at his side like they’d done so many times before. But instead they kept their distance, together and yet somehow apart.

Peter hadn’t felt so alone in years.

After another three episodes had passed with this awkward game of avoidance though, Peter started to realise just how hungry he was getting and went to check with Happy about lunch. The driver told him gruffly over the internal phone to just order some room service, and when Peter expressed that he didn’t have any money to buy it, he could practically feel the man rolling his eyes from the other room. “I’ll cover it. Just order some food already,” he’d replied, muttering something about teenagers before hanging up the phone with a resounding slam.

Peter couldn’t help but laugh just a little before pulling out the room service menu and scanning over the choices hungrily. Whatever would take his mind off the impending emotional whirlwind stirring in his chest would be good enough for him.

Peter had just dialled the number and lifted the phone to his ear when he noticed something strange in the corner of his eye, glancing over to see that Tiger had frozen in place with his eyes blown wide with what he could only describe as abject horror. Watching silently for a moment, Peter’s heart dropped when he saw the cat stagger backwards from whatever his distant eyes were seeing and released a strange sort of whimper into the otherwise silent room. Someone had just picked up the other end of the line when Peter mumbled an apology and hung up the phone a second later. Whatever was happening with his soul guide made the back of Peter’s neck tingle with anticipation, a reaction Peter had come to realise meant _danger was near_. He’d felt it numerous times before on his evening patrols just moments before a knife swung his way or a bullet left a barrel, but not like this. Never about Tiger.

Lifting himself to his feet, Peter began to approach the startled feline with great care, suddenly itching to hold him when he realised that Tiger’s whole body was trembling where he stood. Fear and anguish washed over the cat’s crystal blue eyes as his pupils dilated sharp slits, teeth baring as he seemed to draw in each pained breath. Maybe he was having a panic attack? It wouldn’t be the first time, but he hadn’t seen Tiger have one for a few months now.

“Hey, Tiger hey,” Peter hummed, his voice immediately dropping into something smooth and comforting. “It’s Peter. Can you hear me?”

The cat didn’t move besides the tremble of his rib cage with every ragged exhale.

Stepping closer again, Peter tried to angle himself in Tiger’s field of view as he said softly “It’s alright, it’s alright. Whatever is going on, you’re okay.”

Something was definitely wrong though, because despite Peter being almost within arms reach now, Tiger still hadn’t noticed his companion’s presence. A growl rumbled in the back of the cat’s throat, deep and threatening.

Peter was starting to get desperate now. Lowering himself to his knees in front of the soul guide, Peter pushed back any doubts that lingered in the back of his mind about who this cat represented and how he might react if Peter overstepped their newly constructed boundaries. Tiger had still been his soul guide -his _friend_ \- for every day of his life. He couldn’t just abandon the cat now when he was obviously in need of help, even if that help came from an unwanted soulmate.

“Tiger… Tiger look at me,” Peter tried again, watching for any minute signs that his friend had even recognised him. “It’s Peter. I don’t know what’s going on, but I want to help, okay? Just… just let me help somehow…”

Peter reached his hand forward like he had done so many times before, hoping the cat would respond to his touch if not his voice.

Wrong move.

The horror that had filled Tiger’s expression just moments ago vanished in the blink of an eye and was replaced with a fury so hot it rivalled the sun, his claws out and swinging before Peter had even had a chance to notice the tingle turn into a blaring alarm in the back of his head. Peter couldn’t hold back a scream as he felt the claws rake his hand and wrist, stumbling away from his attacker and drawing his arm to his chest protectively. “Agh! _Shit_!” he hissed as the pain raced up through his nerves like lightning. Tiger may only be a house cat, but _damn_ did his claws feel like a real big cat’s sometimes.

Pulling his arm away from his chest, Peter wasn’t surprised to see the skin unbroken and clear despite the sting still radiating off his hand. Soul guides couldn’t actually leave a physical mark on their partner, but that didn’t mean it still didn’t hurt like hell. This was a concept Peter was very familiar with, because again, this hadn’t been the first time Tiger had scratched him. Mostly out of fear, sometimes out of panic. _Always_ by accident.

But when Peter glanced up, fully expecting to be met with a remorseful stare from the soul guide who would usually return to his senses after Peter’s pained reaction, he was shocked to see that the cat was still glaring at him with unbridled rage. No wait, not at him. Tiger’s eyes -though brimming with fury- were still distant and hazy even as he stared at the teen. Whatever he was looking at on the end of the bond must have been capturing his attention, Peter realised. Something that was with Mr Stark, or _someone_ that was with Mr Stark.

Regardless of who the fury was aimed at though, Peter suddenly felt a cold wave of fear crash down upon his shoulders at the sight of Tiger’s expression. His fierce, determined glare. His raised hackles. His bared fangs. His bloodied claws…

This was not the cat Peter knew, and for the first time in his life, he actually felt _scared_ of his soul guide.

“Tiger…” the teen said shakily. “Tiger _please,_ it’s me. It’s Pe-“

His sentence was cut off by the warning alarm that spiralled through his nerves, twisting aside mere moments before Tiger leapt forward with an ungodly sounding snarl and slashed at where Peter had been sitting on the carpet just beforehand. If Peter thought he’d escaped the attack though he was dead wrong, because Tiger wasted no time in correcting his direction and barrelling straight into the boy’s shoulder with wild swings. Peter, so startled and tired and just damn _afraid_ cried out as he felt sharp teeth sink into his bicep, gripping onto Tiger’s scruff and trying desperately to drag him off and regain his bearings.

He’d never dreamt of a day where he and Tiger would actually fight. Disagreements? Maybe. Silent treatment? Sure, that wouldn’t be a first. But actual physical attacking? That had never even been a possibility in his mind.

Tiger hissed with his teeth still lodged in Peter’s arm and began to kick out his back legs, dragging his claws down the teen’s stomach and eliciting another scream to rip out of his chest.

Peter had never seen the cat so unhinged, so furious, so _wild._ He had to get him to stop. Running away wouldn’t be an option, not with a soul guide. But he might be able to restrain him, as much as it made Peter’s stomach churn.

Everything happened in a flash. One moment Tiger had his jaws locked onto Peter’s arm in a death grip, and the next Peter had twisted to the side and pinned the cat beneath him on the plush carpet. Peter clenched his teeth when he felt Tiger’s claws still digging at his torso, a feral screech splitting the air before Peter managed to slither his arms under the cat and effectively bear hug him in place. Tiger writhed in his hold but with the help of Peter’s stickiness he was able to keep him pinned against him, chest to chest and their hearts beating rapidly right next to each other. It wasn’t the most effective method what with Tiger’s claws still piercing into his skin, but Peter preferred it over the repeated slashing any day of the week. And when Tiger began to search for a new target with his teeth Peter just repositioned his hand until it was pressing the cat’s head into his collarbone and essentially trapping his dangerous jaws into a locked position. Tiger let out of frustrated hiss in response.

“Alright, alright,” Peter breathed raggedly. “We done now? You finished?”

The cat jerked in his arms again, scrabbling for an escape.

“Fine then, I’ll wait,” Peter huffed as he tightened his grip on the feline and forced himself to take a breath. Everything ached. His arms, his chest, his face. It felt like his whole body had just been thrown in the shredder, and he was certain if there had been actual visible wounds the amount of blood marring his skin would be like something from a horror movie.

But he had done this game before. He was familiar with these unexpected turns of events from his soul guide, both good and bad, and he could do it again. He just had to wait it out, let Tiger cool off. He would be back to normal in no time.

At least that’s what Peter told himself.

And so the next few minutes passed by in silence, Peter still kneeling on the soft carpet while Tiger continued to struggle in his arms relentlessly. Peter thought he might have given up once he realised he was stuck, but if anything the cat seemed to get _worse_. His previous spitting and snarling transformed into devastated yowls and cries, taking all of Peter’s strength to not let go when pained whimpers became interspersed with the previous symphony of noise. Peter knew he wasn’t hurting him though. He was being careful not to crush him, and he refused to fight back, so whatever pain Tiger was expressing must have been from frustration, right?

Peter froze when the cat let out a particularly anguished screech, pulling his hand away from Tiger’s head cautiously when he felt something warm and wet meet his skin. It’s a good thing Peter had been sitting down already because he surely would have collapsed at the sight of the bright, crimson _blood_ smeared against his palm, making his heart drop like a stone.

It wasn’t Peter’s blood. It _couldn’t_ be Peter’s blood. That left only one option, and when Peter started to take note of the dozens of other injuries that had appeared on his soul guide’s pelt -scratches, bruises, bloodied fur- while he was holding him, he felt his dread begin to crash down like a powerful storm. Peter had forgotten the most important thing about a soul guide: they reflected the emotions, the actions, and the _health_ of someone else.

So Tiger hadn’t been crying out because _Peter_ had been hurting him. He’d been crying out because Mr Stark had been getting hurt by _someone else._

_Oh shit…_

Pressing his hand back to the bleeding wound on Tiger’s head, Peter felt his breathing pick up to a dangerous speed as the realisation dawned on him.

Mr Stark had been getting hurt and he hadn’t even realised.

Oh god- Mr Stark was getting hurt _right now_ and he still wasn’t doing anything!

The panic from earlier returned fourfold as he raked his brain for a solution, trying to ignore the fact that Tiger was still writhing in fury and agony in his arms. Peter needed help, and he needed it now. What was he supposed to do when his soulmate was getting injured?! He’d gotten so used to being unable to help, being a bystander to the hurt and a comfort in the aftermath that now he had the ability to actually _do_ something he was at a loss.

_Shut up Parker and think! Mr Stark is in danger, so logically he needs help. But I don’t know where to find him… who do I know that can find Ironman…?_

Peter’s head snapped up with an idea.

“Happy. _Happy!”_ he called out shakily, clambering to his feet and trying his best to keep the still snarling cat restrained as he stumbled to their adjoining door. The man had been quick to lock it from his side when they’d first arrived in the rooms, but Peter paid the man’s previous hostility little mind as he began to kick at the wooden frame and cry out Happy’s name like a broken record.

It didn’t take long for the door to open -which made Peter wonder if the man had been hovering there before he’d even knocked- and Peter quickly took in Happy’s expression to find that he was, unsurprisingly, pretty pissed. “What the hell kid? You trying wake up all of Germany or-“

“Happy shut up!”

The outburst shocked them both into silence, but Peter was the first to recover as he stumbled out hastily “I- oh god, I’m so sorry Happy- but, I _need_ you to listen to me, okay?”

For a moment the man remained stunned, obviously still trying to accept the fact that _Peter Parker_ had just told him to shut up. But then Happy shook his head, breaking out of his stupor. “This better be an emergency,” he grumbled, though Peter could tell he had his full attention now.

“Mr Stark is in danger right now. He- he’s getting attacked!” Peter practically shouted. “We need to send him help!”

“And you know this _how_ exactly?” Happy asked, his voice entirely unamused.

So blinded by fear and adrenaline though, Peter didn’t even think twice before stating sharply “Because my soul guide is getting beat up right in front of me!”

That made Happy pause. Peter could actually pinpoint each emotion that crossed the man’s face in crystal clear vision; the confusion, the processing, the realisation, the shock. Slowly, Happy unfurled his arms from where they had been crossed over his chest and levelled Peter with a hard stare. “Kid, I swear, if you’re messing with me right now-“

“I’m not, I promise!” Peter cut him off, his panic rising as Tiger’s wails of rage began to rise again. “I would never joke about this Happy, I just- I don’t know what to do! Please Happy- Mr Stark _needs_ our help.”

To Happy’s credit, he handled the bombshell Peter had just dropped incredibly well. It only took him a few moments of pinching the bridge of his nose and drawing in a deep breath before he went straight into damage control mode. “Explain,” he started, his voice as sharp as steel but his expression entirely attentive.

Peter only floundered for a moment before he began to say shakily “Tiger was- he was just pacing around the room for most of the day when he froze up all of a sudden, and I- I tried to talk to him, but he just started attacking me out of no where! And now there’s- uh, there’s blood on his head, and he’s all scratched up and-“

“Kid _breathe_ ,” Happy interrupted, gripping onto Peter’s shoulders which he only now realised were heaving with each shallow breath he was taking. Peter snapped his gaze to meet Happy’s and was surprised to see a flash of compassion cross his eyes, before he asked firmly “Where is your guide right now?”

Glancing down and shivering at the blood still dripping down Tiger’s silver pelt, he stammered “Here, I… I’m holding him.”

“Alright. Is he fighting you still?”

“Yes, uh, a bit,” Peter winced.

Happy nodded once, as if to encourage him. “Okay, let him go then.”

“What?!” Peter exclaimed as he instinctively drew Tiger closer to his chest. “But he’s getting hurt!”

“I know kid,” Happy said, his voice so painfully understanding as he explained “But if your guide is fighting and taking hits that means that Tony is trying to fight someone else. Having his guide get in the way because you’re trying to restrain him will only make it worse.”

Staring down at his friend guiltily, Peter asked “But… what if he tries to attack me again?”

“I’m sure if you give him space he’ll start to leave you alone. He probably only jumped at you because you were the first thing in his path,” Happy said placatingly.

Peter took in Tiger’s determined struggle, his straining limbs and blood-soaked pelt and suddenly felt guilt flood through his system. He hadn’t meant to make things worse… _Damnit!_ Couldn’t Peter do anything right for his soulmate?!

Taking a few steps away from the door, Peter bent down and slowly relinquished his hold of the cat, Tiger squirming away at the first opportunity and bounding off into the corner. Peter quickly jumped back to Happy’s side and waited anxiously to see if the feline would try to take him on again, but after a few more snarls and hisses, he began to attack the floor and walls in a frenzy instead.

“Okay…” Peter breathed out, not quite as panicked but not exactly relieved either. “He’s still- he’s still attacking but not, uh…”

“Not attacking you,” Happy clarified.

Peter nodded slowly, the weight of everything that had just happened pushing down on his shoulders. “What do we do now?”

“I’ll get a lock on Tony’s location, but I doubt he’ll want us to intervene,” Happy said. “How injured is he?”

“Pretty bad… not as bad as I’ve seen him before but, you know, not great,” Peter answered sheepishly. “I’m worried about his head though. There’s a lot of blood…”

“I’ll get Friday to give me a scan of his injuries,” Happy said before disappearing back into his room and returning with a Stark tablet in his hand. He was searching over something and typing stuff in at a rapid rate, but Peter’s attention was quickly recaptured by the cat still going wild in the corner of the room, hissing and scratching and wailing like he’d gone feral. Peter pressed a hand against his stinging cheek where Tiger had clawed him multiple times.

“I’ve never seen him like this before…” he murmured, not really expecting a response. “He’s never… never looked at me like that before…”

_…Never looked at me with hatred before…_

Happy just offered him a sympathetic glance out of the corner of his eye before returning back to his task determinedly.

And so Peter stayed, leaning against the doorway with a hazy focus on his soul guide while Happy began to mutter something under his breath and stepped back into his own room again. Peter felt like he drifted in and out of reality for a while; like he was in a dream and a nightmare all at once. He hadn’t even really been able to think about the fact that he was _Tony Stark’s soulmate_ the entire day, too busy trying to ignore it and everything associated with it, including Tiger.

Well, before he started literally _attacking him_ , that was.

Again Peter wondered if things would have been different if he’d stepped in sooner. Maybe if he’d offered support to the cat instead of ignoring him he wouldn’t be in such an unstable state now, and Peter’s whole body wouldn’t be aching from a plethora of invisible wounds. Maybe things would be different…

The hairs on Peter’s arms stood on end.

_Danger!_

His eyes immediately shot up, expecting to see Tiger charging at him with claws at the ready, only to see something far worse. Tiger, bloodied and pinned to the floor on his back by an unseen attacker, was crying out not in rage, but _terror_.

And suddenly Peter realised that the alert from his senses wasn’t meant for him, it had been meant for _Mr Stark_.

“NO!”

Tiger’s strangled wail filled the air the same moment that Peter screamed, staring in horror as a wound the shape of a crescent suddenly pierced the feline’s chest, deep red blood beginning to soak into his once pristine fur. Within moments Tiger’s breathing had become harsh and ragged, and Peter watched as the once fiery anger seeped out of his body until he was slumping against the carpet with hazy eyes. Peter thought he might have heard Happy’s voice but he was too busy scrambling to his soul guide’s side to really take notice.

He was on his knees in front of the cat in seconds, clasping his hand over his mouth to hold back a sob at the sight of the horizontal wound etched into his friend’s small chest. It ran through the old, jagged scar that went vertically between the cat’s ribs and created a cross that represented only pain and agony and _horrors_. Peter felt like he was going to be sick just at the sight of it.

“Kid, what happened?” That was Happy’s voice, but Peter couldn’t find the will to answer him.

All Peter wanted to do was lift Tiger back into his arms and protect him, the sting across his torso long since forgotten and replaced with a longing to hold his friend in the safety of his embrace again. But looking into the cat’s disoriented blue eyes, a clot of blood soaking into the carpet beside his muzzle, Peter couldn’t seem to move his arms. Suddenly he was eight years old all over again, watching helplessly as his soul guide -his _soulmate-_ was dying in front of his very eyes, blood soaking into his fur and staining the pure white coat.

_No… no! Mr Stark can’t die! I didn’t even get to talk to him, I didn’t- he can’t-!_

“Happy!” Peter called out, teetering on hysterical at this point. He jumped when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder not a second later, glancing up at Happy with tears blazing in his eyes as he coughed out “Happy he- he… there’s blood on his chest, and it’s happening all over again! I can’t… oh god I can’t lose him…”

Happy’s eyes widened a fraction in alarm, and giving his shoulder a brief squeeze, he said regretfully “I just lost signal the signal from Tony’s suit.”

The panic must have been obvious in his expression though as Happy quickly went to add “But I’ve got his last location and a medical jet at the ready, so I’m going to go get him okay?”

“Happy, please,” Peter stammered, feeling the words lodged in his throat. “Please don’t let him, I- we didn’t even get to talk yet-“

“Don’t worry kid, I’ve got it under control,” Happy assured him with another squeeze of his shoulder. “What you need to do is focus on your soul guide, okay? You look after him, and I’ll look after Tony. Deal?”

Feeling a hint of relief at being given a task, Peter nodded and rubbed the tears from his eyes. “Okay… deal,” he murmured, not even caring that his voice cracked.

“Alright. I’ll be back later,” Happy said, and with a final pat of Peter’s shoulder he turned and disappeared out of the room.

Forcing back the impended tears, Peter locked all the fear and guilt and sorrow that was swirling around his head into a little box and forced it into the back of his mind. He had to focus. He had to be strong. For Tiger.

For _Mr Stark._

So turning back to the cat laying before him, Peter’s heart jumped when he realised that Tiger’s cloudy blue eyes had fallen shut again. At first he went to panic but noticed the cat’s chest rising and falling with uneven breathes a moment later, the blood seeping out of the wound already beginning to slow. Peter didn’t even realise he’d been holding his breath until he let it out in a shaky sigh.

Slowly, the boy reached out and brushed his fingertips against the blood-soaked fur on Tiger’s chest, causing the cat’s eyes to spring open in alarm. But unlike the distant, furious gaze that had lashed out at him before, Peter felt his shoulders fall in relief at the soft blue stare that met his own, flashing with recognition.

“Hey there,” Peter hummed, a weak smile lining his lips when Tiger mewled back in a stunned reply. Wanting to comfort him further, Peter laid his hand over the cat’s side, only for Tiger to hiss in barely contained anguish and lead Peter to pull his hand back almost immediately. “Sorry, sorry,” Peter murmured, hovering his hands over Tiger’s battered body as he tried to find the best position to pick him up from. As soft as the carpet was in this hotel, he doubted it would be very comfortable for his poorly friend.

Tiger’s eyes followed him in a daze as he carefully manoeuvred his arms under the cat, the tender touch so different to the brutal way he’d had to restrain him only a little while ago. Peter took extra care around what he assumed were Tiger’s broken ribs and gingerly lifted him from the floor, his frail body leaning into the groove of Peter’s arms like a puzzle piece that had found its place in the board. His fur was cold to the touch, _frosty_ even, and his body was shaking like a leaf in the wind. From the temperature or from shock though, Peter couldn’t be sure.

Offering a comforting smile as he rose back up to his feet, Peter naturally began to rock back and forth in soothing, rhythmic motions, saying with a weak laugh, “For a moment there I thought you’d grown out of the whole _‘getting beat up’_ thing. Guess some things never change, huh?”

Blue eyes as clear and as deep as an ocean stared up at him unblinkingly, his pupils blown wide in a way that Peter had never seen before. Maybe it was a concussion… his head had been bleeding pretty badly before.

But before Peter could think about it for much longer, Tiger began to make a strange noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between a groan and a wail but oddly entrancing all the same. It was quiet. Soft. Peter worried he might be in pain at first but Tiger soon lifted his paw to Peter’s chest, claws retracted and gaze still locked on his own, like he was trying to tell him something.

Peter was enraptured by the intensity of Tiger’s stare. He’d always had sharp eyes, but right now, in this moment, Peter felt like he was seeing him for the very first time.

There were so many emotions swirling in the depths of his gaze that it overwhelmed him at first. Pain and regret were the most obvious ones, but beneath that he also so saw grief. _Loss_. Tiger’s nonsensical noises were so heavy with remorse it was like he was trying to tell Peter something more meaningful than a cat was actually capable of expressing.

Feeling a little guilty that he couldn’t understand his friend’s stream of words, Peter moved towards the bed without ever breaking their gaze and sat back against the headboard to get comfortable. When Tiger winced at the shift in position Peter was quick to soothe him, running his thumb across the soft fur beneath the cat’s eye as he murmured “It’s okay, it’s okay… Happy is on a jet right now to get to you. You’re going to be fine, I promise…”

Peter couldn’t really promise that, but he did it anyways. He told himself it was to reassure Tiger, but he knew deep down it was also for his own sake. Because maybe if he said it enough… maybe it might just come true…

“We’ve done this before, so we’ll just get through it like we always do, won’t we?” Peter said, trying to be lighthearted but feeling his voice start to tremble near the end. He bit his lip to stop any unwanted emotions from escaping and focused instead on pulling a blanket around him and Tiger, making a warm cocoon of safety like he did the first time Tiger had been wounded this severely.

Lowering his gaze to the still raw wound on Tiger’s chest and the old scar imbedded beneath it, Peter wondered what had truly caused that terrible injury all those years ago, knowing what he did now about his soulmate. He drew himself back to that horrible day, the awful weeks and months that had followed of watching his soul guide grow thinner and weaker and more ragged with each passing day. And when Peter really searched his memories, he thought he could envision the old television set, a news report with Tony Stark’s face flashing up on screen with the words _‘kidnapped’_ in bold letters beneath it. The same kidnapping that had eventually led to the creation of Ironman, an arc reactor sitting in his chest…

Peter breathed out a sigh and shook those dark thoughts away. This wasn’t the time to reminisce. What he needed to do was try and look after Tiger the same way that the soul guide had done for him throughout all the years of his life. Through all the trauma, all the loss…

Holding onto him now was the least he could do.

So turning to stare down at Tiger, Peter’s face brightened to see that his big blue eyes were still fixed up at him, open and vulnerable and shinier than before. Peter ran his fingers over Tiger’s ear gently and offered a weary smile. “You just gotta hold on for a little while, alright? I promised I’d wait…”

His voice trailed off at those bitter memories of the airport. Of Mr Stark’s distraught expression when Peter had seen the two soul guides together, his utter refusal to admit what they both knew was the truth…

For a moment Peter felt the rejection swelling back up in his throat like acid, threatening to destroy his resolve.

But then he also remembered the regret in Mr Stark’s eyes after he’d pushed him away, the relief in his voice when Peter promised they would talk after. And it was with those memories in mind that he smiled down at Tiger with tears eyes, whispering softly “So promise you’ll make it back, okay? Promise me…”

Tiger made that humming sound again, but this time it sounded more frantic. More desperate for Peter to hear it. The teen didn’t interrupt him as he made his speech, nodding along and stroking Tiger’s ear as the cat sung to him in his own secret language. He couldn’t understand a word of it, but Peter got the feeling he didn’t need to. Not now at least.

As time passed by though Peter noticed the cat’s eyelids beginning to droop, fluttering open determinedly but always sliding back down only seconds after. His once consistent humming had reduced to a weak stutter, and Peter knew that the exhaustion was finally taking a hold on his small friend.

“It’s alright,” Peter hushed as he swayed them gently from side to side. “You’re tired, I get that. You can sleep, just… make sure you wake up again, yeah?”

Doubt passed over Tiger’s eyes as he stared up at the teen dazedly, and Peter couldn’t help but feel a stab of rejection at the sight. “I know I wasn’t what you wanted…” he murmured; his voice quiet but steady. “But I’m here for you no matter what… I won’t leave, I’m here _… I promise_ …”

Tiger’s pupils dilated at the softly spoken words. Maybe he’d heard them… maybe he’d understood…

And for a moment, Peter thought he might have seen _relief_ wash over the storm of emotions in his crystal blue eyes.

The cat fell unconscious shortly after, but Peter stayed awake and watched over him long into the afternoon, the concept of time entirely forgotten. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, just staring down at his soul guide and matching each strained breath that expanded in Tiger’s chest, but by the time heavy footsteps came sounding through the doorway and caused Peter to break his trance, he realised that the sun had set long ago. The moonlight shimmered in its place through the still open window and illuminated Happy’s slouched form as he stepped into the room, looking as exhausted as Peter felt inside.

“Tony’s fine,” Happy said without preamble. “He’s at the hospital now, but the doctors said he’ll be alright.”

Peter wasn’t exactly surprised. Not with the still breathing, still _alive_ soul guide in his arms, but he nodded gratefully to the man anyway. “Thanks… thanks for everything you did today,” Peter murmured, the realisation that _Happy_ of all people had been the first outsider to learn about his soulmate still not fully setting in yet.

Or maybe he was aware, and it was simply the fact that Happy had seen him in his most vulnerable state tonight that he couldn’t find the energy to care. He doubted he had much dignity left to lose at this point anyway.

“Thank yourself for saving him,” Happy replied while eyeing where Peter was still running his fingers through Tiger’s soft fur. “If it weren’t for you… who knows if we would have found him in time.”

Peter only had the energy to hum in agreement, bowing his head to stare down at his companion once more with a soft, admiring gaze. Tucked into his arms like this, Tiger seemed almost at ease with the world. _Peaceful._

It was a rare sight. Most days Tiger looked like he held the weight of the world on his shoulders, and Peter supposed he hadn’t been too far off with that statement now he thought about it.

“Here kid,” Happy mumbled, grabbing something from within his room before returning to Peter’s bedside with a grease-stained bag of takeaway and a drink in his hand. When Peter raised a questioning brow towards the _11:32pm_ displayed on the alarm clock, Happy just placed it on the bedside table and stated dryly, “If you starve then I have a lot more paperwork to deal with.”

A weak laugh bubbled up into his throat, and Peter smiled at this man who had gone from initially resenting him with every fibre of his being to becoming an anchor through one of the most difficult experiences of his life. Maybe Happy hadn’t hated him as much as he thought…

And only proving his point further, the driver then pulled out a small box of pain relief tablets and sat it down next to the food, saying offhandedly “You can take that for the… you know, the scratches.”

So flattered by the gesture, Peter didn’t have the heart to tell him that regular medicine didn’t work on him anymore. That his metabolism would tear it down faster than you could say _‘go’_. But again, Peter just smiled and nodded his thanks. Glancing over and reading the unintelligible -but familiar- name on the packet, Peter added in surprise “That’s some strong stuff. I’ve seen my aunt use it at the hospital.”

Happy shrugged nonchalantly, saying “I use them when her Highness gets too snappy at a board meeting.”

Swearing his head must have short-circuited at the sentence that surely, _surely,_ couldn’t have been English, Peter asked dumbly “Her Highness?”

This time it was Happy’s turn to smirk, heading for the doorway as he said with an air of fondness “Let’s just say you’re not the only one with a cat as a soul guide.”

Peter blinked in shock, certain that he was dreaming now. Because for Happy to have openly told him about his soul guide -a thing you only did for people you trusted-, that meant he really _did_ care about him after all. A feeling of success settled over his chest in that moment, and he vowed he’d never forget the day that he got Happy Hogan to soften up.

“Stop grinning and eat,” the driver snapped over his shoulder as he closed the adjoining door. “Then for gods sake, get some _sleep_ already.”

Peter held back another laugh and settled for a smile instead.

Alright, maybe he hadn’t softened him _all_ the way yet.

So scarfing down the lukewarm takeaway and taking one of Happy’s painkillers to see if it might do anything to soothe the unseen claw marks across his torso, Peter shuffled down under the covers and positioned Tiger safely at his side. The cat was fast asleep; didn’t even stir when Peter had lifted him onto the soft mattress. Peter hoped for Mr Stark’s sake that he stayed like that for a while longer. A full night’s rest could do them both a whole lot of good after the day they’ve had.

Turning the lamp off, Peter rolled onto his aching side and stared down at his companion in the soft wash of moonlight, turning his silver pelt to a dazzling white and hiding the many injuries lying beneath. Peter gently ran his fingers down Tiger’s soft pelt, taking comfort from the fluttering heartbeat he could hear in the cat’s ribcage with his enhanced senses. Like a soft drum leading him into slumber.

“I’m here for you,” Peter whispered as he rested his chin above the crown of Tiger’s head. “I’m always here for you…”

And just before Peter fell into the welcoming arms of unconsciousness, a warm, soothing purr rumbled beneath his hand, the faint hints of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips as he closed his eyes and drifted away.


End file.
